A Reflection: The Beauty of Mountainous Movement
This is a reflection on my Elks Traverse effort and a bit of a personal reflection on recent happenings.
Photo by Tamara Susa
On August 9 at 4:06 am, I started running under a moonlit sky with the intention of traversing the Elk Range in its entirety faster than anyone had before. This is known as the Elk Traverse FKT (shorthand for Fastest Known Time). These records are very popular in the ultra running community and hold a comparable esteem to prestigious races – of course it is FKT route dependent. The Elk Traverse, in my opinion, is one of those great routes that has and will continue to offer a true test to the mountain athlete.
The Elk FKT is a running route, however, it is much more: a complex line of 55 miles and with 24,000’ of elevation gain across arguably the most rugged and prominent terrain in Colorado. A route built to challenge the mountain athlete. A route to challenge endurance, mental stamina and explosiveness. A route that ceases to try to break your knees and ankles. A route where, at many points, one false step could result in tumbling to your death. Scary right?
Well it’s more complicated than that. Over this fall, I’ve had time to reflect and grasp what this route means at large and to me. Furthermore, to grasp the level of intensity and precision the mind and body must meld so efficiently to travel across this daunting terrain.
Last week, I went up Capitol (the first summit in the route) as I do most weeks, but this time was different. I felt a juxtaposed sense of awe with that of terror. The awe was centered around a feeling of self-appreciation and gratitude – a moment to be proud of myself and a moment of appreciation for the grandeur of this land. The terror was simply a feeling of being terrified by myself. That is to reflect on the mere speed in which I ran across this technical and exposed terrain.
I let that sink in and it morphed into a beautiful realization: these feats are to be taken on with full concentration and dedication to an unachievable perfection. Every ounce of my focus as an athlete this summer was dedicated to developing a capacity to float through these mountains. To move quickly and efficiently through this terrain with unbroken motion and sincere connection. Therein lies the path to breaking that barrier of terror.
Many folks look at these mountain sports as fit for the selfish and those unconcerned with living. But as all mountain people know, it’s just the opposite: these sports are for those who want to feel the rush of life in abundance. That’s why we dedicate our entire being to the preparation and movement. So upon executing your goal, the sensation of fear dissolves under the surreal yet tangible confidence of flawless movement.
It was odd and reassuring to have these feelings up on Capitol that day. It all got more complicated when I returned to cell-service. My phone was flooded with messages asking if I’d seen the news about Hilaree. I pulled over and started scrambling on the web. My stomach dropped and I felt a newfound uncertainty for the seemingly unstoppable woman that had become a close mentor throughout the past year. The excitement and belief that Hilaree poured into me through our ski mountaineering objectives together, as she screamed at the top of her lungs “Woooooo, kick ass” along the trail at the Telluride Mountain Run, and in her gracious way to continuously make time to help this small time athlete brainstorm exciting objectives for the coming years. Hilaree believed and everyone that knew her felt that. The impossible was not in her vocabulary.
The sense of gratitude that I have for the mountains is one that was bolstered by Hilaree and for that I am beyond moved.
My appreciation for completing the Elks Traverse is beyond measure and it feels apropos to elaborate on the experience to share a bit of the beauty we all experience in the mountains. These mountains are my home, they’re my childhood, they’re amazing. It was an honor to move throughout them from dark to dark, to experience the sunrise atop the granite Capitol-Snowmass Massif, venture across the geologic timeline from igneous rock into the red shale that comprises the Maroon Bells and Pyramid, then nestle back into the dark through a sunset in the distant valley of East Maroon. I’ve been dreaming a lot of the movement I experienced on this adventure recently: thinking of the flow that passed through mind and into body. To see ten to twenty moves ahead and execute these with precision in a rather unbroken cycle for 22 and a half hours. A surreal state of flow you could say.
This is the life in the mountains and it is life at its fullest. I stunned myself when I crossed the finish 5 hours ahead of the previous record held by Rickey Gates – an esteemed mountain runner with accolades heavily outweighing mine: US Mountain Running Champion and US Trail Running Champion. But it’s not about the time or the titles. It’s about the experience. Rickey and I shared the same footsteps, experienced similar sensations, and felt a wonder for this pristine landscape. Neal Beidleman and Jeff Hollenbaugh also shared these moments even though their experience occurred 26 years prior to mine. That’s the beauty. We’re all travelers among these mountains, they bring out our best and unite us through a shared unique experience. To know these sensations will continue to be felt as time passes is pure magic. For these mountains are rather permanent, ever powerful, and will always dwarf our existence.
It is through a reckoning of defeat that we can become our best selves amount these peaks. It is to accept that we must strive for our best while most importantly understanding that we will never best the mountains. Perfection in these places is unachievable and that limitless level of progression is what motivates us. Thank you Hilaree for embodying this, challenging the possible and filling myself and many with the awe of possibility in the mountains.
